Red Lace
by MP119
Summary: Er...Ron has a bit of a problem. RHr, oneshot


**Title:** Red Lace

**Author:** Moi, of course

**Disclaimer:** Nope, still don't own it.

**Summary:** Er…Ron's overactive brain gets him in a little trouble.

**Author's Notes:** This came to me at 2 AM and I couldn't sleep until I wrote it. Forgive me if it's not that funny but well, I tried. Review, please? Oh and this takes place during their 6th year, so yeah, during HBP.

* * *

It all started when I accidentally saw Hermione in the nuddy-pants.

Well, not exactly the nuddy-pants. She had been wearing a bra and knickers but that was almost as good as naked.

It was completely unintentional. I went to Ginny's room in search of my wand and didn't think to knock, as Ginny had been downstairs still finishing her lunch. Hermione had only arrived at the Burrow a few hours before and in that instant, I had forgotten she was there in the first place.

Which resulted in my barging into Ginny's room to find Hermione standing by her trunk. In bra and knickers. Which I said before but this bears repeating.

We had both frozen before Hermione shrieked. "RON! Are you insane? GET OUT!"

I didn't need telling twice. Face burning, I left the room and slammed the door behind me. I leaned my head against the wall outside Ginny's room, my heart beating crazily.

Admittedly, I didn't see much. A flash of a lean back, long legs, (Merlin, how could someone as short as her have such endless legs?) the slight curve of a hip, and of course, firm breasts. All encased in red lace knickers and matching bra. What I didn't actually see was compensated by my mind's eye.

I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised. I'd never seen Hermione as the red-lace type of girl. I'd always pictured her as the sensible-cotton-briefs-and-sports-bra type.

It was days before Hermione could look me in the eye and not turn red with what was most likely embarrassment and possibly anger. As for me, I couldn't look at her and not picture those red lace knickers.

This new tendency got me into trouble a few weeks into the start of term. I was sitting in Transfiguration, having finished my test already. I was feeling pretty confident about myself; I had only skipped one question and I still had ten minutes to spare.

I looked to my left, where Hermione was still busily scribbling on her parchment. She crossed her legs at the knee and I could picture her uniform skirt rustling over her thighs and could only imagine what was under that skirt…

Red lace knickers.

Oh no. I felt my brain heading towards dangerous territory and my body was beginning to react accordingly.

No, no, no. I was not going to get randy in Transfiguration in the middle of an exam. That was just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong and I would not let that happen.

I glanced at her again and saw her chest moving slightly with her breaths.

Red lace bra.

Bloody hell.

My mind raced, searching for the unsexiest thing I could possibly think of.

My mum. My mum in those old overalls she sometimes wore when she worked on the garden the Muggle way.

My heart rate slowed down and I could feel the blood racing away from that particular part of my anatomy and flowing through the rest of my body.

I heard a small sigh to my left and glanced over again. Hermione was busily scratching something out on her parchment.

Hermione in those cutoff overalls, red lace bra and knickers barely visible.

Dammit. She could even make overalls sexy, which is a remarkable feat.

Think unsexy thoughts!

I scanned the room hastily and my eyes landed on the desk in the front of the room.

McGonagall.

I inwardly let out a sigh of relief. This seemed to have done the trick.

McGonagall in a bikini.

My shoulders started to shake with suppressed laughter. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from laughing aloud and dug my nails into my palm.

Hermione in a bikini.

I nearly groaned aloud.

My stomach chose this moment to grumble loudly and I fleetingly wondered about lunch. The smell of pumpkin drifted over from the kitchens.

Pumpkins are pretty unsexy. It's their shape, I think. No one wants to look like a big, shapeless pumpkin. The color doesn't help much either.

Mmm, pumpkin pie. With swirls and swirls of whipped cream.

Hmm. Whipped cream…red lace…

In times like these, I wish my brain had an off switch. How Hermione makes pumpkin pie sexy is beyond me. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Finally-_finally_-the bell rings and McGonagall collected our test papers with a wave of her wand. The classroom erupted with noise as people collected their things and began to make their way to lunch.

"So what did you think?" Hermione asked from beside me, gathering her things. "Wasn't that hard, I thought."

Hard was definitely a good way to describe the last ten minutes.

I cleared my throat and said, "It was alright." I pretended to be fascinated by the spare parchment lying on my desk.

Hermione nodded and looked a little worried. "I have to ask Professor McGonagall about number fifteen; I'm not entirely sure I understood the question."

It might be safe to start getting up now.

Hermione leaned over to collect her bag from the floor. As she does so, her robe and school blouse fall away slightly from her, giving me a good view of smooth skin, the milky white tops of her breasts and yup, you guessed it, a red lace bra.

I hate irony. I hate my life.

"Are you coming or not?" I heard Harry ask from my other side, looking slightly impatient.

"You go ahead, I'll catch up."

It might be best if I remained sitting for a little while longer.


End file.
